Alone
by DeanCasLover22
Summary: Where do you go when you lose yourself, your purpose, and find yourself truly alone? Michael's actions, thoughts, and memories after the Season 1 finale. Part 4 of 4 posted.
1. All Is Lost

******A/N: I know this topic has been written about quite a bit on here but wanted to write my version and decided to share. There will be another part coming. Maybe more. This story is based on the finale and loosely based on a scene cut from it. This will end up being an AU for future Dominion events. **

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**Part 1: All Is Lost**

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After breaking through the underground lab's skylight Michael flew for hours, aimlessly, wanting nothing more than to outfly his troubles. To forget everything but the wind blowing against his fair skin and the feeling of the air underneath his raven colored wings.

The sun had risen high in the cloudless sky when he found himself gliding above the rocky ocean shore. A familiar place. The last time he'd been here was to meet with Gabriel. A meeting that had confirmed the second war was near. Confirmed that he'd soon have to face his twin archangel in yet another life or death battle.

Michael landed in the same spot he'd waited for Gabriel at weeks ago and folded his wings away as he stared out at the sea green ocean before him.

The beauty of the nature surrounding him could not keep the memories at bay. Becca's lifeless eyes. Three of the soldiers he'd personally trained lying by the entrance of her lab. Alex's words, _This is how it ends?_ It all came flooding back.

Michael felt tears sting his eyes as he focused on the ocean waves crashing into the rocky cliffs below him. He'd destroyed everything. Alex's trust, his redemption, all within a moment of blind rage.

Michael loathed what he'd reverted to, and at the same time resented Becca for pushing him too far. For all the lies. For promising to protect Louis when she was doing the very opposite inside her lab. He had trusted her, he had...he had loved her. He'd hinted so when he had left her in the stratosphere. And she had betrayed him, in the worst kind of way.

Michael felt the tears in his eyes fall as he grieved over what they'd had, over the price Louis had paid for his misplaced trust, and for himself. He'd worked so hard for so many years to earn his redemption, worked too hard for it to end the way it had, with Alex holding a sword to him, the tip covered with his blood.

He glanced down at his shirt. At the bloodstain over his abdomen. What if Alex hadn't managed to cut him? What if the pain hadn't snapped him out of his rage? Would he have him killed him too? Alex, the baby he'd seen born and had saved, the boy he'd watched grow up, the man he'd been training to save humanity? To save him?

It would have been unfathomable to Michael if he wasn't all too familiar with the strength of the darkness within him. The fury and taste for blood he'd thrived upon before he'd been shown kindness by the most unlikely source imaginable. A young boy with dark hair and eyes. A boy who'd lost his only parent to Michael's blade. A boy who'd saved him from the desert heat, from extreme dehydration, because it had been _the right thing to do_.

He'd hoped the experience had changed him permanently, but had soon realized that the darkness in him wasn't so easily defeated. It was and always would be an ongoing battle of will. He had thought he'd finally gained control of it, until now.

Michael didn't want to admit it even to himself, but he knew the truth. If Alex hadn't managed to injure him, he would have killed him without hesitation. He knew how the rage worked. He didn't think. He only swung his sword. Killing became his only instinct. It was as if he wasn't in control anymore. And that was as terrifying to admit as it was exhilarating while it occurred.

Michael felt lost. What now? Could he come back from stooping so low? Alex was alive, but could he ever repair their relationship? Gain back his trust after everything the man had seen him do? Could he ever look him in the eye again without feeling ashamed?

Remembering how much Alex had resented him in the beginning, before he'd even known his past, Michael knew the answers to his questions. Alex had accepted his dark history after having previously gotten to know him better, but he would not accept the horror he'd witnessed first hand so recently.

Acknowledging this hurt more than Michael thought it could. His care for Alex went beyond his mission for redemption, of course. After all these years Alex was more than just The Chosen One, his charge, his student. He was also a friend. Jeep's adopted son. And he was the closest thing Michael had to having a son of his own.

It was devastating to realize that he'd be capable of killing someone he cared that much about.

Maybe it was a good thing that Alex's trust was broken. He was too dangerous to be trusted. If Alex stayed away from him he still had a chance. He still could save humanity.

Michael knew that even without him Alex would continue to train. Continue to attempt to read his tattoos. He'd seen the overwhelming amount of determination to save humanity in Alex's eyes the day Alex had refused to quit trying to evict eight-balls from their hosts. Had seen it again when he'd evicted Gabriel from Louis' body. Alex had accepted his role.

So there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe not for himself, but for the world.

Michael unfurled his wings and pushed himself off the cliff, still having no idea where to go next, what to do. All he knew was that the air would dry the wetness on his cheeks and allow him to push the images of Becca and Alex out of his mind until he landed again.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading. This is my first Dominion fic. Leave a review? :)**


	2. A Place To Sleep

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**Part 2: A Place To Sleep**

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At sunset Michael found himself swooping down in the front yard of an aging white farmhouse next to a rusty old basketball net and some overgrown bushes.

He hadn't originally intended to stay here for the night, but with darkness closing in and his wariness growing, Michael decided it was his best housing option, now that he couldn't return to the Stratosphere.

The musk of the interior hit Michael like an invisible brick wall when he entered, but he ignored the smell and headed straight for the single bedroom downstairs, pulling a few dusty blankets out of the closest.

Michael headed for the living room and laid the blankets on the couch before slipping back out the front door. Outside, by the barn, he pumped water out of the well and drank, wetting his face and some of his dark hair in the process.

After he'd had his fill of water he walked back into the house and shrugged off his long coat, throwing it onto the couch. His shirt soon followed. Michael glanced down at the spot on his abdomen where Alex had cut him, which was now fully healed, then took a folded blanket off the couch and sat crossed legged on the floor with it underneath him. He breathed and closed his eyes, trying to focus on clearing his mind for meditation and prayer. But the memories he had from the night before quickly threatened to invade his thoughts again. Michael's eyes snapped open.

He pushed himself back up onto his feet and walked the room, scanning the items it held. To the untrained eye, to someone who didn't know him well, Michael would have appeared to be casually doing this, wasting time, but his slightly jerky eye movements indicated differently. He was desperate for any kind of distraction.

He spotted an old CD player on a shelf at the back of the room. He recognized it as the battery operated one Jeep used to use sometimes when he'd visited the farmhouse. He'd found it in one of the bedrooms upstairs.

Michael approached the invention and picked up the empty CD case lying on top of it. It was labeled "_Junior's Mix_" in black marker.

Michael placed the case on top of the pile of Country CDs beside the CD player and turned back to it after to press the power button. He'd never used the player before, but he'd seen Jeep use it often enough to know how to turn it on.

Once he pressed the play button the music drifted through the house. It was unlike any music Michael had heard before.

It was less spirited than the classical music Uriel was so fond of and that he himself listened to on a vinyl record, the rare occasion he preferred the noise to peaceful silence. The silence he practiced his skills to. It also wasn't as upbeat as the songs on those old Country CDs that Jeep had listened to when visiting the farm. It was slower in its pace, darker, haunting.

Michael was about to turn off the CD player when the song switched. He listened to the words for a few moments, head slightly tipped towards the sound, and stiffened.

_There are things,_

_I have done._

_There's a place,_

_I have gone._

_There's a beast,_

_And I let it run._

_Now it's runnin' my way._

_There are things,_

_I regret._

_That you can't forgive._

_You can't forget._

_There's a gift,_

_That you sent._

_You sent it my way._

_So, take this night._

_Wrap it around me like a sheet._

_I know I'm not forgiven,_

_But I need a place to sleep._

The words struck too close to home. Michael pressed the power button off and settled down onto the couch. The springs could be felt, but the blankets he'd brought from the bedroom padded them, and so did the couch's throw pillows.

As Michael got comfortable he realized just how tired he truly was. He hadn't stopped since he and Alex had initiated their plan to trick Gabriel into meeting Alex at the abandoned waterpark. He hadn't slept in nearly seventy-two hours, most of which he'd spent planning, fighting, and flying.

The emotional toll of the last few days was more tiring than the physical ones. He'd fought and had been awake longer than this many times, especially during the war between the angels and humanity (when he'd often helped stand guard as the humans slept), but was more drained now.

Michael closed his eyes and prepared himself for a flood of memories, but for the first time since he'd flown out of the lab, they didn't come.

He quickly fell into a deep sleep.

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**A/N: Thanks for all the encouragement in the Part 1 reviews. I have 2 more parts outlined. **

**The song used in this one is called "This Night" by Black Lab. I heard it and couldn't stop comparing the lyrics to Michael's plight. **

**I wanted to fit it into the story and thought hey, the farmer who used to live in the farmhouse could have had a son who liked music like this and maybe Jeep listened to it at some point. And so it went. **


	3. A House Of Memories

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**Part 3: A House Of Memories**

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Michael woke to sunlight leaking through the gap between the curtains hanging over the living room window. It was late. Already afternoon. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so long and awakened so late in the day. As the head of the Archangel Corps in Vega he'd always woken up before the first light of dawn.

Michael got to his feet and slipped on his shirt and coat. He stepped outside of the house to drink water from the well again and then spread his wings and flew off to a nearby river. There he bathed.

Once he was cleansed Michael returned to the farmhouse. He wondered what to do next as he glanced around the interior. He was still at a loss.

He took off his coat and sat down crossed legged on the floor, attempting to meditate once again. This time the memories of the consequences of his rage did not immediately surface. He was able to clear his mind and to become truly relaxed. All the tension left in him from his anger, guilt, and shame melted away.

He prayed. Prayed to his father, asking as he'd done many times over the centuries he'd lived for guidance. But there was no answer, as there often wasn't and never was since the war began.

The silence had often bothered him. It did so more now. He'd always believed in his father, had no doubts that He would return, but in that moment it wavered and he wondered. He wondered if Father had abandoned them all. Humanity and angels alike, for the angels were really no different than humanity. Michael knew this because for a long time he'd been one of the worst of them all, and was so again.

Michael opened his eyes and stood. He walked over to the room that Jeep had stayed in when he was trying to decipher the tattoos and studied the writings on the wall. He glanced at the folded up cot in the corner and the basket by it, an item mostly covered by a bed sheet. Michael pulled the blanket off it and riffled through the items in it.

There were many miscellaneous items inside. Old bags of food, books, a spare handgun Michael recognized as one of Jeep's, and a dirty stuffed animal. A tan dog with a missing right ear and nose. Michael paused before picking up the toy. He recognized it. And then he remembered from when.

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"Michael," Jeep said as the archangel stepped through the threshold.

Michael glanced around the interior of the farmhouse then looked back to his friend. "Why are you here?"

"I thought the farmhouse would be the best place to hole up in for a couple days," Jeep replied. "Before Alex and I join the Vegas camp again. You told me to find a safe place nearby."

"Yes," Michael paused, "But are you sure it is safe here?"

"I scoped out the area for miles around," Jeep told him. "It's as safe as it can be. And it's unlikely they'll come by this place again..."

Jeep looked past Michael in thought.

Even the angel could guess at what he was thinking about because when he'd landed in the front yard beside the beat up old Chevy truck Jeep was currently using, he'd been thinking about the same thing. He'd been thinking about Alex's mother, Charlie, and how she had died here nearly exactly a year ago because several eight balls had followed them to what was supposed to be their safe house.

Michael reached out and placed his hand on Jeep's shoulder to comfort him. Jeep gave him a grim smile in return.

When Michael dropped his hand he looked over the same shoulder. "Where's Alex?"

"He's in the living room," Jeep answered.

He led Michael into the room and there was Alex. No longer the crying infant he'd held a year ago on that tragic day. The toddler lay on the couch, sleeping peacefully in a bundle of blankets with the morning sun shining through the curtains onto his thick, wavy golden hair. In his right hand he gripped a stuffed animal. A tan dog with a missing ear and nose.

At the sight of the boy Michael felt a warmth in his chest and his lips curled up into a slight, brief smile.

He turned back to Jeep, who was in a chair cleaning one of his guns. He placed his hands behind his back and the smile was gone.

"The Vegas camp will be secure by the time you are ready to leave," Michael told him. "General Riesen, his army, and I pushed the dogs of heaven, or as you call them, eight balls, towards the mountains. People continue to enter the city. With the amount of people arriving seeking shelter and Riesen's plan to build a wall, it will be the safest place for Alex. You can disappear there."

Jeep finished cleaning his handgun and clicked the pieces back together. "You know me, Michael, I won't sit on the sidelines."

"You don't have to," Michael said. "But your first priority is to protect Alex."

Jeep nodded. "Of course. You know he always comes first to me."

He got onto his feet. "So, do you want something to eat?"

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Michael withdrew from the memory. He placed Alex's stuffed animal back in the basket and grabbed an old jar of canned food out of it. The food had probably been there too long, but Michael was hungry and he didn't have to worry about food poisoning.

As he ate, he thought about the last time he'd been here, with Alex. He felt guilt creep up on him and wondered again if he'd been right to order Jeep to leave Alex alone. Did the end justify the means? He'd seen Alex's resentment towards him and Jeep for it. Since that day he'd leaned towards no. He knew now that abandonment did not build character in humans; it broke them. Maybe it made them stronger mentally but spiritually it left scars.

_What am I supposed to do? Michael! What am I supposed to do?_ The last words Michael had heard from Alex as he faded into unconscious, after Furiad had stabbed him, ran through his mind.

Despite all of his anger towards him, all of his defiance, Alex's words had been spoken with distress. And he had dragged Michael into the Jeep and driven him back to Vega despite that being the very last place he'd want to go back to. Alex hadn't even considered the idea that he'd be imprisoned on arrival, for having left his post. His only concern had been to get Michael to the hospital in time for medical treatment.

Michael realized how selfish he'd been all these years. He'd been so focused on redeeming himself through Alex he'd forgotten to consider his well being. The well being that went beyond physical health and safety. He could have blamed it on him being an angel, not understanding human emotions enough, but he knew the truth was he just hadn't paid attention. He hadn't started to until the tattoos changed over from Jeep to Alex.

Michael placed the now empty food jar on a shelf and turned to look through a window out at the desert.

He wondered where Alex was now.

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**A/N: Thanks again for the lovely reviews everyone. One more part to go. **


	4. All That's Important

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**Part 4: All That's Important**

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Days passed and Michael let himself lose track of time. There was no place to be, no place to go, so no need to keep track of it. He existed in a state of perpetuity, of simple routine. Wake, mediate, practice, fly, and mediate again. He did whatever he could do to keep his mind off what he'd done without involving others. He kept to himself believing it was for the best.

Then, one evening, after a rare rainfall and as the sun began to set, others found him.

Michael was meditating as usual, in the living room when he heard the front door creak open. His eyes snapped open and he found himself looking into the barrel of a shotgun.

He glanced up to meet the hazel eyes of a woman in her mid-thirties with his own.

"Not an eight ball, are you?" she inquired. "Show me your teeth."

Michael did as told and the woman lowered her gun. "I thought not. You don't have those veiny markings."

Michael stood and donned his shirt before turning back to her.

"Though I'm not an eight ball, you should not assume I am harmless," he warned.

The woman smiled. It was neither friendly nor threatening. "I have a knack for knowing who is a threat to me and who's not. And I don't believe you are."

"I am dangerous," Michael said.

"No doubt," the woman agreed. "But aren't we all?"

Before Michael could reply a young teenage girl walked into the room with a boy no older than eight, and a black and tan dog. An elegant Saluki.

The dog passed the children and sat down by the woman's feet.

"Mom, who is he?" the girl inquired. She studied Michael with wariness.

"Guess we should get through introductions," the woman decided. "I'm Naomi. These are my children, Myra and Cole. And our dog, Gemma. Your name?"

Michael walked past them. "I must be going."

He made it out the front door, off the porch, and onto the pathway before Naomi stepped outside and shouted, "Wait! We don't want to run you out of the house. We're leaving in the morning. Heading north. Stay."

Michael looked back at her over his shoulder. "If you knew me, you wouldn't want me to."

He was about to release his wings for a quick escape when Naomi caught up to him and grabbed his arm. Michael pushed her away and she stumbled back as his wings unfurled.

He heard her gasp at the sight of them, so up close she could have reached out to touch them if she wanted to, but the human didn't.

"You're the Archangel Michael, aren't you?" she inquired.

Michael was caught off guard by the question. He folded back his wings.

"I've heard a lot about you," Naomi explained. "Stories from the war. Since you haven't tried to kill us and clearly pushed me away so I wouldn't get hurt by your wings, I figure you must be him. Every other angel we've met has attacked us, and none warned us first. You are him, aren't you?"

"I'm not what you think I am," Michael said. "I'm not safe."

"Haven't we covered this before?" Naomi mused. "You may not trust yourself, but I trust you."

"Why?" Michael asked. "You don't know me."

"I know guilt when I see it," Naomi began. "I know pain, sadness, and regret. You may not show it in your face, but your eyes give you away Archangel."

"Then you can understand why I don't wish to stay," Michael said.

"It's just one night, then we're out of here," Naomi told him. "And then you have this place all to yourself again, to do whatever you were doing."

Michael wanted to fly away, but something kept him from doing so.

"Alright," he sighed. "I will stay."

Naomi nodded and headed back to the porch where Cole was standing, Myra slightly in front of him with her gun raised. She lowered it as Naomi approached.

Michael slowly followed the family back into the house and into the living room where Naomi shrugged off her jean jacket, wincing as she pulled her right arm out of its sleeve. Michael noticed the bloody bandage just below her elbow.

"You're injured," he commented.

"Eight balls caught up to us on our last pit stop for gas," Naomi explained.

"Four of them," Cole piped up. "But we got them all."

Naomi smiled at him. "Yes, we did."

"Mom needs a change of bandage," Myra told Michael. "Are there any in the bathroom or closets?"

"There should be," he answered.

Myra gave him a quick nod and walked away.

Michael glanced back to Naomi, who was now sitting on the couch.

"She's always like that with strangers," Naomi told him. "Doesn't trust in my senses."

"I do," Cole said from beside her.

Naomi gave him another smile. "I know."

Cole turned to Michael. "So, what is it like to fly?"

Naomi shushed him as she pulled her wavy light brown hair back into a ponytail. "Cole, no prying."

"It's not prying," he protested.

"It is alright," Michael told Naomi. He looked back to Cole. "It is hard to explain what it feels like, especially to someone who has not experienced it before. The wind and the sights I see. But if I had to use one word that you would understand, it would be _free_."

Cole nodded. "Mom said that would be how it would feel once too."

He stood and whistled. Gemma came bounding into the room and the boy and dog sat on the floor together. The boy gave her a good belly rub.

Michael looked at Naomi and she smiled at him. "It wasn't all that hard to guess."

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After Myra had helped Naomi clean up her arm and bandaged it up again the family ate some canned food from the supplies in the back of their car. Naomi offered a can to Michael and he accepted and ate with them.

Once they'd eaten, Michael left them for an empty bedroom to mediate once more. Naomi watched as he left but did not say anything.

When he returned to the living room a couple hours later, the family was already asleep. Cole and Gemma on the couch, Naomi and Myra on the floor. A few feet from Naomi were Michael's spare blankets and a throw pillow. He walked over to them and lay down. However, he could not fall asleep. As soon as he closed his eyes he saw Becca's lifeless green ones staring back at him.

In the dark, he turned over and glanced around at Naomi and the rest of her family. He wondered if they'd have let him stay this close to them if they really knew his story, and he wondered why he still felt alone.

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At first light Naomi, Myra, and Cole packed their belongings back into their car, along with some supplies they'd found in the house that Michael had no use for.

Michael watched them pack up the final items they needed into the vehicle from the porch. When they were done Cole and Gemma hopped into the backseat while Myra took the shotgun position. Once they were settled in, Naomi approached Michael.

They were inches apart when Naomi stopped.

"I guess this is goodbye." She paused. "Always an awkward moment, isn't it?"

Michael didn't answer.

Naomi looked him in the eyes. "I wanted to say before I left that whatever you did, however bad it was, it doesn't define you. What you do now is all that's important."

Michael tilted his head a bit and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Good luck," Naomi said.

"You too," he replied automatically.

Naomi gave him one last smile before she turned and walked over to her car. From the backseat Cole waved at him before buckling his seatbelt. Naomi got into the driver's seat.

Michael watched the car take off, onto the dirt road. As it disappeared into the distance he kept running over the words Naomi had said to him.

_What you do now is all that's important._

Was she right? Could he still do good?

He knew if he'd ask most people who knew what he'd done they'd say no. But...but what about the boy who'd saved him all those years ago? What about Father? What would they say?

He knew the answer. He had to try again.

So he spread his wings and flew away, still unsure of where to go, but on the right path.

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**A/N: Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone liked the ending. :)**


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